


Sneaking Away

by Romanumeternal



Series: Julia and Marlia [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Breaking Up & Making Up, Developing Relationship, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanumeternal/pseuds/Romanumeternal
Summary: This is taken from one of my very, very old stories and given a bit of a makeover.Hadrian is a committed abolitionist, but his beloved (and very attractive) girlfriend is not. After a night of passion, he tries to choose between his principles and his desires.
Series: Julia and Marlia [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107642
Comments: 20
Kudos: 7





	1. Part 1

Early morning sunlight streamed through the blinds; casting the room in a golden, seemingly divine light. Julia's hair and skin almost glowed as she lay on the bed, sleeping, slightly curled up.

The 'divine' , description, Hadrian thought, was apt. Sleeping, a thin white blanket half covering her nude form, she looked like an old painting of one of the Gods. Tanned skin contrasting with the pure white of the bed linen, a slender, curved body half concealed by a thin, scarlet blanket, golden hair covering her narrow, aquiline face which rested sideways on a pillow - she could have been Venus, he reckoned. 

Or perhaps, he thought, admiring her toned limbs and flat stomach, an avatar of Sol Invictus. One of His sects, he knew, thought of the Sun as Mother, rather than Father; a wrathful warrior-woman defending Her children from the Darkness. It was a heretical sect, to be sure, he knew, despised and derided in equal measure by other followers of the Unconquered Sun, but nevertheless an endless source of inspiration for artists and poets. But no, he thought. Athletic she was, but it was hard to see Julia as a warrior. A Goddess of Love, on the other hand...

He shook himself, amused and annoyed at himself in equal measure. That comparison of Julia to Venus, he mused, was the height, the pinnacle, of tedious romantic poetry, the stuff he used to write; derivative drivel that any half-decent hack could scribble out. Julia, of course, would lap up the description, much as a cat laps up cream, and Hadrian knew that his early romantic poems fascinated her - whilst his more recent ones, he knew, the ones which meant something, the ones he wrote to draw attention to injustices, expose society's hypocrisy, left here merely baffled. 

She has all the depth and understanding of a greeting card message he thought, spitefully. He was glad at this thought. It made leaving her easier, after all. He was, acutely, furious with himself.

They'd broken up once before. Over something trivial, really - as Marlia had come in, serving them both salad, Julia had snapped at her to hurry up, or she'd be sold to a mine after having her ankles broken. No doubt it was fairly common - the maid herself had looked utterly unconcerned by that threat - but the casual, idle way Julia had made it, even in jest, had offended Hadrian. Because, as both Julia and Marlia well knew, with a snap of her fingers Julia could send Marlia away to some hell hole. Because Julia owned Marlia, in exactly the same way she might own a chair, or a stola, or a cat. 

Perhaps it had been the lateness of the hour, but it had been the proverbial straw that broke the donkey's back, one of hundreds of ways she showed, quite openly, she thought of some people as just property. He'd tried to remonstrate with her, but then Julia had tried to ask him to 'cut this abolitionist nonsense out'. Then, the argument had degenerated into a shouting match. After that, he'd stormed out, and for a while, despite his heartbreak (for, politics aside, Julia was pleasant, sweet if a bit shallow, and exceptionally good looking - certainly, far more so than any other girl who'd been even slightly interested in him) he had been convinced he'd done the right thing. 

After all, really he thought, she was like a worm eaten apple - delicious on the outside, but riddled with corruption inside. Like the Republic as a whole, really. A smiling, charming girl who nevertheless saw nothing wrong in principle with one person, due to nothing more than an accident of birth, having the power to do anything to someone who was in every way your equal.

And then, last night, he'd agreed to come around, to pick up the tunic he'd left behind...and then one thing had led to another. Wine had been poured. Julia had been on a charm offensive, and she'd taken his hand, and they'd shared silly jokes, and remembered old times, and Marlia had come in with a bowl of chocolate ice cream that they'd shared, and then one thing had led to another and they'd ended up fucking like animals.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. Last night had been pleasant. But there was no way they could stay together; living with her, he was sure his beliefs would gradually dissolve - or, there would be endless arguments and unpleasantness. He was a man, not an animal. He despised Romulus for many things - if he even existed and wasn't just an invention of some Roman propagandist - but the founder had had a point when he said "A Man who surrenders to his base passions; rather than fight for his principles is no Man at all".

Julia, he reflected, as he pulled on his clothes, was definitely a base passion.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
He crept into the kitchen, wondering if Julia had awoken yet. Probably not; she wasn't an early riser. Still, he had to hurry. Discreetly slipping out of the door before she awoke was, he felt, maybe cowardly, but definitely preferable to either an early morning argument - or Julia seducing him again. No, best to go now, when his resolve was still strong...

"Oh" said Marlia, looking startled, coming in with a dishcloth. "You're up early, sir - if this one may say so" she added, slightly nervously, as if she wasn't sure whether she had permission to say so, and that she anxiously expected a small punishment for speaking out of turn if it turned out she did not. She flicked her eyes to the floor. 

"You can say whatever you like" muttered Hadrian. He glanced around the kitchen. In his hurry to escape, he'd failed - incredibly - to notice that the lights were on, pans were simmering, and the kettle was boiling. Pretty observant of you, he chided himself.

"This one is sorry, sir" said Marlia, looking shamefaced, as though she should reasonably have been expected to see an man wandering into the kitchen as dawn was breaking "but breakfast is not yet ready. This one could get you some fruit or coffee, though - or do you want something else, sir?"

"W-well" stammered Hadrian. Marlia was looking at him oddly, perhaps taking in the fact he was fully dressed - including with his overcoat. "I thought-".

Marlia's mouth quirked for a moment. "Sir, you are too kind" she said. "It is...so polite of you not to want to bother this slave, but I make breakfast at this time anyway. So it is honestly no trouble, at all." She swallowed, and for a moment, a strange expression came over her face - a mixture of amusement, sadness and approval.

Hadrian gaped for a moment, early morning post coital fog clouding his mind, before he realised that the maid thought he was creeping in to cook himself and Julia some food, without disturbing her. It made sense, he guessed, to Marlia. She knew he was an abolitionist, knew he disapproved of the way Julia carelessly used the maid. And probably had no idea about how he felt about Julia generally, how he loved her and loved being with her, but knew that by staying with her he was effectively propping up the rotting, disgusting edifice of slavery, surrendering his principles merely to lie in bed with an attractive woman. 

His conscience - or at least part of it - roared back. He was abandoning Julia, and probably letting Marlia in for a bit of hurt in the bargain. Not saving Marlia a morning and cooking Julia a nice breakfast. His resolve, fragile as it was, began to dissolve once more.

"Well" he said again, and then foolishly grinned. Marlia smiled back - with genuine warmth, he noticed. Previously, when she'd looked at him he'd seen anxiety, uncertainty and on occasion something not unlike contempt or resentment - the same look he saw on the faces of most slaves, when they weren't guarding their expression beneath an exrpressionless mask whenever they looked at any free citizen.

He felt an uncertain spasm of pity. Gods above, was Marlia really the sort who thought the offer of two hours or so extra sleep was worth a look of worship like that? Was she really that broken?

"Besides, this one hardly thinks-"

Hadrian held up a weary hand. He'd always found the formal slave talk, in which the speaker referred to themselves in the third person, supposedly to emphasise their lowliness, annoying and extremely demeaning. At this time of morning when he was trying to work up the resolve to walk away, it had the additional effect of confusing him even more.

"Marlia, it is far too early in the morning for this slave talk rubbish. Talk normally."

"As you wish, sir. I hardly think my wise and kind domina would approve, though, if I was lazy and let you work." Hadrian frowned, wondering if that was a tactful way to say that Marlia thought he'd burn the place down if left to his own devices. "Although I do notice, if I may be allowed to say so sir, that you are dressed for outside. Did you wish for yourself and the domina to eat on the balcony?"

Hadrian blinked. This was not at all going well. He'd hoped to sneak off quietly, leaving Julia heart broken for a week or so, and sever the affection he genuinely held for a sweet, kind, adoring and beautiful woman who nevertheless felt if was perfectly acceptable to own another human being, mind body and soul. He hadn't hoped to bump into the maid on the way out. It shouldn't, he knew that, but it made heading out the door much harder. And his determination to do just that was, he felt, been swiftly overtaken by the desire to return to bed and enjoy time with Julia.

"Um..." he began, and then took a deep breath. "To be honest, Marlia, I think you have the wrong end of the stick."

"Sir?"

"I'm...well, I've decided to leave?"

Marlia said nothing, merely looking stunned. Hadrian could sort of understand himself. He knew he was far from conventionally attractive - he was tall, sure, but his sparse frame had less to do with an athletic build and more to do with simply not been that concerned with eating - whilst Julia was, by anyone's standards, beautiful. He wondered, vaguely, whether Marlia privately thought her domina could do rather better.

Or maybe, he considered, she was just a slave, and so incapable of realising that people might have reasons for lying together that weren't just based on attractiveness, or wealth, or veiled or open coercion. Not, he reminded himself, that that was her fault. He doubted girls like her had much opportunity for genuine romance. 

After a while, Marlia simply nodded.

"Well, in that case sir..." she shrugged. "Do you want me to inform her, or simply pretend I missed you?"

"For your sake, it might be better if you missed me" replied Hadrian. He frowned. "Not that I'm encouraging you to lie to your domina, at all. Do what you think best."

"As you wish, sir." Marlia was looking at him rather more coolly now. And no wonder, thought Hadrian. He'd be surprised if Julia's misery wasn't, in some way, taken out on the maid. But really, that would be Julia's fault, wouldn't it? 

"I'm sorry, Marlia-"

Marlia cut him off, and for a moment, his abolitionist principles were almost overcome by the desire to slap her for that impudence, before his horrified conscience got the better of him. Still, she was a slave, and he was a citizen; and whatever the facts, she should have a bit more respect...

"Why should you be sorry, sir" said Marlia, icily. "You're free, you can go with who you want can't you?" Not like me, she might as well have added.

"I mean" said Hadrian, weakly. "She might be a bit annoyed."

"She will be, I imagine." She paused, and then looked Hadrian straight in the eye. "Of course, my wise and kind domina would never be so crass as to take it out on me, would she?". She took a deep breath, and continued, in an almost pleading tone. "She wouldn't, you know. I'm not just saying that. She wouldn't."

Marlia, you're a decent cook and a good cleaner and no doubt excellent, though unwilling, in bed, but you are terrible at a direct lie. Of course, she was probably telling the truth, in a very narrow way. Julia might occasionally vent her frustrations by casually slapping her maid around, but she was hardly the type of woman to coldly and deliberately hurt Marlia for something that wasn't her fault. That said, Hadrian suspected both of them knew that Marlia's next week or so would probably be unpleasant. He certainly doubted that Julia would be allowing her much in the way of reading material, or an occasional sweet.

"Its just, it wouldn't work" he said, weakly.

Marlia swallowed. "It is hardly my place to say, sir. Whether it would work or not. Not that I'm an expert in that, or anything. Although, sir, for what it is worth, sir - I think you should tell her. Now."

She flinched, slightly, as if in anticipation of a slap.


	2. Sneaking Away (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadrian, a committed abolitionist, tries to have a talk with a slave.
> 
> Since said slave serves the girl he's trying to dump, its not an easy conversation.

Marlia swallowed. "It is hardly my place to say, sir. Whether it would work or not. Not that I'm an expert in that, or anything. Although, sir, for what it is worth, sir - I think you should tell her."

She flinched, slightly, as if in anticipation of a slap.

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened slightly, as she realised what she’d said.

How she’d almost ordered a free citizen around. She hung her head quickly, hands crossing demurely in front of her.

"Please, sir, forgive me. I spoke out of turn."

Hadrian gulped, and for a dizzying moment, he actually felt like slapping her. He was owed respect, he knew; when all was said and done he was a citizen and she was a – what? A whore, a slave, who -

He stopped that train of thought quickly, dismissing it from his mind, disgusted that part of him had even started to think like that. But that was the problem, of course. It was drummed into you, in lessons, in casual conversations, in films and television shows and books and speeches and lessons and lectures.

_They’re sub-human, really. They did something to deserve this. They don’t have the mental faculties to deal with freedom; they need to be controlled. They’re happy with their lot, its actually cruel to give them too many choices…._

Intellectually, you knew it was rubbish, of course. Even the most dyed in the wool Romulists didn’t take it seriously; the politicians and the _Collegium Mercatorum Romanorum Servitutem_ likely knew that the propaganda was never wholly swallowed.But still, it poisoned your thoughts, wormed its way into your views and actions and words, making it hard for you to really see them as equals.

He smiled encouragingly.

"Marlia, I'm an Abolitionist. I'd hardly go around slapping slaves, would I?"

Somehow, Marlia managed to make "Of course, sir" come out as something more along the lines of "Just because you're an Abolitionist doesn't mean you wouldn't hurt me. I've heard kind words before."

Hadrian sighed – but then, he reminded himself, Marlia was right to be wary. To her, he realised, he was likely just another free, male Citizen. Though, he couldn’t help thinking, surely the girl could realise he was genuinely on her side? That he genuinely wasn’t wanting to hurt her, that he genuinely saw her as equal to him?

"So...you think I should tell her?"

Marlia's eyes flickered. "Its not my place to say, sir."

Obviously desperate to change the subject, she asked "Do you desire refreshment, sir?"

"Never mind coffee. You obviously think I should" said Hadrian, slightly bitterly. Maybe she had a point – certainly, telling Julia he was leaving, that their relationship couldn’t last, that deep down, however sweet she was, she was irredeemably soiled with the stench of slavery, would be the honourable thing to do. But it was hardly an appealing thing to do – stumbling out an explanation, getting into a bitter row or shouting match. And, he reminded himself, Julia was charming. Going by past performance, he might well end up back in her bed. 

"I could make you coffee" said Marlia. "Milk and sugar, sir?"

"I mean, what can I say to her? Huh?"

"Or perhaps some hot chocolate, sir?" She held out a ceramic mug, emblazoned with the crest of the Caledonian Academy; Julia’s old school.

“My domina was very pleased with the recent box Claudilo sent over; its from Khomosia, I believe…”

"Marlia, I...I don't know what to do here. Gods above, she's lovely, but..."

"There is some juice sir, if you do not fancy anything heavier. Its no problem for me to press-"

"Marlia!" "Sir?" "You can speak freely in front of me, you know."

"Of course sir. What do you want me to say, sir?" She smiled, wanly, as she searched his face. Her meaning was obvious. _Just tell me whatever you want me to say, sir, and I’ll say it_.

"Your opinion."

She looked down at the floor, obviously nervous. Hadrian kicked himself for a fool. No doubt she'd think it was a trap, or a thinly disguised order to flattery. He wondered, vaguely, if she'd ever actually dared to disagree with a citizen. If she had, it was doubtful she'd done it twice. The very most she'd ever do, perhaps, was subtly demur, letting her superiors come around to her way of thinking whilst letting them think they'd done the hard work.

After a while, she looked up. She was, Hadrian noticed, pretty. Plain, next to Julia (or in fact, most freeborn, rich girls) but pretty, nonetheless. Not a ravishing beauty, by any stretch – her chest was flat; her face was thin and her habit of not looking one directly in the eyes was distracting – but certainly not ugly. Neither did her shapeless trousers and tunic; both made from a rough, grey material; or her hair cut short, so it barely reached her shoulders, render her unattractive. He carefully kept his eyes on her face, lest she misread his intentions. Far too many men dished out casual sexual abuse; and from the little Julia had cared to tell him about Marlia (and even getting that information, he reflected; had been a challenge; to Julia’s mind asking after Marlia was like asking after the farming practices of sharecroppers in Vanasia – almost bafflingly irrelevant) Marlia had had it dished out more than most.

Marlia shifted, frowning, and then bit her lip. "I'd say, sir - and this is the opinion of only me, sir, a worthless slave - but it might not be fair on Julia."

She gulped. "I apologise and beg pardon, sir, if I gave offence."

Hadrian felt an absurd urge to pat her on the head, give her a treat, and tell her what a good girl she was; the way he’d seen patronising slaveowners do before. "No, Marlia. But" he smiled. "fair, on Julia? Why should you care?" "

She deserves an explanation, sir, if nothing else. I mean, she does love you, dearly."

Hadrian could see that, but ‘fair’? On Julia? Why on Earth would Marlia care about that? So far as he could see, Marlia's life was one long example of unfairness - an example amplified every time Marlia knelt before her owner, every time Julia idly ordered the maid to serve her, every single slap and rebuke and patronising act of 'kindness' Julia happily gave the maid, secure in her conviction that that was the way the world was ordered. And, what was worse, Marlia seemed to think like that as well. It almost made him feel genuine anger towards the heiress. Not only did she benefit from the system, not only did she see nothing wrong in treating another human being as mere property, her maid was so broken by it that she thought a minor blip in Julia's otherwise perfect life was 'unfair'.

"I know that, Marlia. But..."

"And I'd hate for her to be unhappy” Marlia added, perhaps a touch hurriedly.

Hadrian frowned. "Of course, she'd take it out on you" he said, more to himself than to Marlia. Hadrian felt a stab of irritation, at Marlia's obvious emotional blackmail. She knew, after all, that he felt slaves shouldn’t be hurt merely because their owners needed someone to take their frustrations out on. But it was a was a low, dirty tactic, and -

"Not just that" snapped Marlia, with something closer to anger in her voice. Hadrian looked at her in surprise, and the maid, realising her tone of voice, gulped and whimpered "apologies, sir."

"What then?"

Marlia looked down at the floor, and then bit her lip, as though regretting her outburst.

"Nothing, sir” she said, tonelessly.

Hadrian rolled his eyes, but tried to inject some reassurance into his voice. "Marlia. I'm not cruel and I am not stupid. I won’t tell your domina what you tell me, and I know you’re intelligent enough to know I don’t slap slaves for telling me what I don’t want to hear. What is it?"

Marlia paused for a moment, and then glanced towards the doorway, cocking her head, almost challengingly.

“You swear, do you sir?” She paused, and then bit her lip. “On the Black Stone?” Hadrian smiled – but then stopped, when he saw Marlia’s intent look. Feeling slightly foolish, he placed his hand on his heart. Marlia smiled, and then nodded – although she still seemed uneasy.

"Sir; I do - genuinely - care about her, you know." She shrugged, and smiled slightly. "Oh, I'll know you'll say it is all nothing but self interest and fear that makes me say that. And a part of it is, no doubt. But...even if that was taken out of the equation, so to speak..." she swallowed, and looked at Hadrian uncertainly. "I still wouldn't want her to be miserable, sir. Why would I want that?"

Personally, Hadrian could think of a dozen reasons immediately why Marlia might feel some bitterness towards Julia, might secretly wish for her life of ease and pleasure to be made rather worse, but he forbore from commenting. Instead, all he said was: "Julia's very lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have her, sir - cloyingly sentimental though that may sound."

This was too much. He looked at the slave with open pity, trying to suppress the slight contempt he felt. Gods above, how broken in spirit, how degraded in character, could a girl be to think that she was lucky to be owned by another human being? Sure, Julia was not the worst of all possible owners - but she was far from the best, too. Unless she was lying, even now. Not trusting him not to run and report every word she said to the woman who owned her mind, body and soul.

"Really" he said, a note of coldness entering his tone. Marlia nodded. "Yes, sir. No painful punishments, enough food, fairly easy work - truth be told, sir, I've never had it so good. If she didn't own me, I shudder to think where I'd be. I'm not clever or pretty enough to be worth cosseting, I know that."

he smiled bitterly, looking down a the floor, a note of regret in her voice. She sighed, and then looked up, meeting Hadrian’s faze for the first time. "Besides sir" she added, with a trace of brittleness in her voice "it isn't as if wishing things were otherwise would do any good, would it? So, I have a kind and compassionate domina - who, sir, I think you should talk to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collegium Mercatorum Romanorum Servitutem: Literally 'The Association of Roman Slave Merchants'.
> 
> The name is, in reality, somewhat misleading. Altough in theory comprised of hundreds of individuals, companies, and enterprises involved in the slave trade, the CMRS has over time centralised and now acts more as a single corporation, jointly owned by its members. CMRS representatives settle disputes and organise contracts between members, CMRS detention facilities and CMRS guards secure slaves awaiting sale, whilst prices are determined using CMRS guidelines, CMRS transporters manage the flow, import and export of slaves throughout the republic and CMRS lobbyists oppose any attempt to improve, even slightly, the legal position of slaves, whilst trying to ensure that the supply of slaves is constant, yet limited. Within the Republic, at least 80% of slaves are sold via CMRS affiliates, whilst globally it is involved in perhaps 50% of the entire slave trade. 
> 
> (Collegia is a Latin word that, depending on the context, can refer to a wide range of groupings: from social clubs, to religious groups, to worker's unions, to certain types of companies, to, as in the case of the CMRS, alliances between different corporations). 
> 
> The Black Stone is a mythical stone, thought originally to have been part of the Forum but now long paved over.   
> There are dozens of legends regarding its nature and origins. However, most myths concur in that it is a relic of some awful significance that has the potential to bring great misfortune upon the unworthy. 'Swearing on the Black Stone' is a rhetorical expression, indicating that the promise is especially binding or important.


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the usual disclaimer: Hadrian is obviously right here, and Julia hugely in the wrong. These are characters in a society with hugely different, and in most cases worse, values than ours.

Hadrian said little after that, instead sitting himself down at the table. Marlia remained silently - perhaps, he speculated, embarrassed by her outburst. Or, he thought to himself, and despite all the protestations he had made, Marlia was still half suspecting him to run off and tell Julia what her maid had said. After all, no matter how careful her words had been, Hadrian knew full well that even the most innocent remark could be twisted into insolence. He vaguely recalled a quote, from some sneering slaveowner he'd once seen interviewed, saying that even a slave complimenting one's owners was an example of insubordination - for it was still an example of a slave daring to voice an opinion of their own. 

Although, he admitted sourly to himself, Julia probably lapped up Marlia's compliments as a cat did cream. For a moment, he wondered whether Julia thought they were wholly genuine, or whether she simply enjoyed the sycophancy, despite knowing Marlia was hardly a disinterested party. 

He chewed his lip, wondering how best to phrase "Julia-you're-a-lovely-girl-but-my-moral-principles-mean-we-can-no-longer-be-together". Perhaps, he thought, the best way to do it would to to quietly lead into the subject. Or maybe it would be better if he spat out a few sentences and then retreated, before the heiress turned either her charms or her anger on him. 

Marlia started breaking eggs into a bowl; the tapping of the knife and the cracking of the shells rubbing against Hadrian's raw nerves.

"Sir?" she asked, quietly, nervously.

Hadrian looked up, irritably.

"Do you wish for scrambled eggs sir? Or bacon, sir? Or-"

"I'm fine" snapped Hadrian, and then felt inordinately guilty as the maid visibly winced, almost as if she'd been hit. He debated offering an apology, then decided that would only make things worse. Marlia was doubtless used to curtness and snapped commands, less used to free Romans apologising. 

He toyed with various scenarios in his mind. Venus above, the men in his poetry never had to contend with this. With vicious fathers, greedy mothers, cruel women and jealous brothers, yes, but not with this. His mouth quirked. At least, he thought, he might get some inspiration out of this. It had been a while since he'd written anything truly romantic; most of his recent scribblings had been political or satirical in some way. And, he couldn't help but notice, rather less popular and much less read than his earlier work 

"Hadrian?" asked a voice - the accent pure Patrician, clipped, every syllable pronounced perfectly. The voice one acquired through a childhood spent amongst the daughters of the leaders of the People's Republic. 

Both Hadrian and Marlia jerked around, almost guiltily at the sound. Julia stood in the doorway, utterly naked and utterly unabashed, brushing blonde hair out of her eyes with one hand. She raised an eyebrow as she saw the dressed poet sitting at the table, and instantly Hadrian felt his noble, sorrowful thoughts dissipate, to be replaced by one much more primal one. Julia smiled as she noticed the way his gaze swept over her whole body, obviously divining his thoughts well enough.

"Hadrian" Julia chuckled "I am honestly not sure how things work where you live, but here inferiors bring their superiors breakfast in bed."

Now! That was a perfect opening, to say what had to be said! There were no such things as inferiors and superiors, merely the powerful and the powerless! Why should Marlia have to get up early, prepare Julia's meal, and serve it to her in bed, without even payment?

Somehow, though, he couldn't even open his mouth.

"And here, my dear, you and I are superiors, and she-" she jerked a vague finger in the direction of Marlia "is an inferior."

Another opening! This time, Hadrian got as far as managing an 'um' before Julia interrupted, arching her back, rolling her shoulders back, grinning as Hadrian's eye's flicked down to her breasts. 

"So" Julia smiled, and wriggled her body slightly "fancy coming back? I like starting my morning next to a man" She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered exaggeratedly. "It gets awfully cold on the bed, sometimes."

Not as cold as I guess Marlia has been, in that cell you keep her in thought Hadrian, briefly. He almost managed to say that, too, but all that came out was a 'well'. He kicked himself. Gods above, what kind of abolitionist was he?

Julia frowned. "Hadrian, you seem slightly...weird, this morning." She bit her lip, and then said, with a faint hint of suspicion: "You haven't been screwing Marlia, have you?"

The maid whirled around, looking slightly panicked. "N-no Domina, I'd never-"

"Was I talking to you, girl?" Julia snapped. 

"Apologies, Domina."

Julia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Idiot." She took a chair and sat down on it, opposite Hadrian, who tried to keep his eyes fixed firmly on her face. Even that proved difficult to maintain his purpose. It was a well formed face. Slightly narrow, he thought, but with great blue eyes, like the sea off Neapolis, that a man could almost drown in...

"No, don't be silly" he choked out, slightly annoyed both at himself for his distraction and at Julia for assuming he'd sleep with someone who couldn't refuse. There was a name for that when you did that to a free girl, after all.

"Just, you did look guilty". Julia paused, and then shrugged. "I mean...I just don't see why you'd want that scrawny bitch in the corner when you could have me. And frankly, it would be rather rude of you to do it without asking me first. I wouldn't - I don't know. But its a bit like, oh, taking money from my purse without asking."

For a moment Hadrian was astounded that Julia could even compare the two.

"Julia, I did not even kiss Marlia."

"Its not something I'd break up with you over, and I know a lot of girls are okay with it, but me, I think its vulgar" said Julia, slightly reprovingly. "Especially without asking."

"Its more than just vulgar, don't you think?" said Hadrian.

Julia yawned and stretched. "Not really. Impolite, on a number of levels. I mean-oh". She rolled her eyes, as understanding dawned, and then she sighed, melodramatically. "Hadrian, is this some abolitionist nonsense again?" She glanced towards Marlia. "Girl. Go to your room and stay there until I say otherwise."

Eager to escape the awkward atmosphere, the maid fled as quickly as she decently could.

"I thought we were over this" she muttered, sadly, and then reached over, squeezing Hadrian's hand. "C'mon, Hadrian. Don't be like this." She cocked her head. "She's a slave; I really don't get why you get so worked up about it." She paused. "Its not as if I mistreat her, right?" She looked at him, her expression almost challenging. "I may be strict with her, and I'd be the first to admit I don't see the point in treating her as I would a free person, but compared to a lot of owners...". She blinked, pausing. "You don't honestly think I'm overly cruel to her, do you?" she asked, almost pleading, her blue eyes wide. 

"Julia, you're a lovely girl and all, but" Hadrian squirmed, uncomfortably. "And I don't think you're cruel, as such. I've seen far worse owners. Its just..."

"I own slaves?". She leaned back in her chair, still looking confused. "Along with - what? Forty per cent of the Republic?"

"Forty two, actually" muttered Hadrian, taking a mean pleasure in showing off his knowledge.

"Of course you'd know. I mean, I think it is sort of admirable. And adorable". She smiled. "Its always good to have a cause, I think. But really Hadrian? Abolitionism?"

"But - don't you see?" Hadrian asked, almost certain Julia wouldn't understand - or would refuse to understand - but knowing he had to try, anyway. "Slavery is wrong, and it doesn't really matter how you treat your own slaves, whether well or not. It's wrong, full stop. Not different, not relative, not a matter of perspective, but wrong."

"So? Lots of bad things get done every day" said Julia, bluntly. "And slavery isn't wrong, anyway - but even assuming it was, you're hardly innocent. Like that tunic." She pointed. "Probably some worn out woman made that. Or the food you eat. Or the roads you travel on, or the vehicle you go around in, or the - well. You get the point." She cocked her head. "And I'd bet you that those slaves are treated far worse than Marlia."

"I always try and buy Freely Made." muttered Hadrian, but he winced at each accusation. He had counter arguments, sure, but there was no denying on some level he was a hypocrite. "That's not-"

"No, its not". Julia sniffed. "Its worse, because you don't even see it. And then you pick on me for having a maid I keep warm and fed and cared for. Unlike those factory slaves - or, come to think of it, those factory workers in Vanasia."

Hadrian blinked. "Julia, at least those workers are free. Vanasia abolished slavery" he said, carefully, wary of implying Julia's historical knowledge was as bad as he privately suspected it might be. 

"So? They have to work right? Otherwise they starve?" She snorted. "Some freedom that is. Working endlessly until they sack you and you freeze to death in the gutter." 

You, thought Hadrian, have been listening overmuch to your father. I rather think he'd be proud of you. Spouting the same old tired arguments. 

"It's just...at least they're free. And I'm not defending the oligarchs, but at least-"

"At least what?" asked Julia, sounding honestly curious. "If Maria got sick I wouldn't turn her out onto the streets. She doesn't live in a filthy slum. She has enough to eat. I don't deny that some slaves are badly treated - although in most cases its really just mere whining - but that doesn't mean its always wrong. What's the worst I do? I slap around Marlia when I'm annoyed, but I don't starve her, or beat her, or have her raped, or her bones broken. Much". She saw Hadrian's expression, and hastily added. "Just joking. But...I just don't see why you go after me and other decent citizens for having a slave in their familia." She crossed her arms, with a hint of self-righteousness. "I'd lay money that there's millions of people in the world who'd be envious of Marlia's life. Besides...even if I did agree with you - we've had slavery for thousands of years. We're hardly going to get rid of it anytime soon."

"But surely you have to try?"

Julia shrugged. "If you think its that important, yes. I guess." She leaned forward, her lips brushing against Hadrian's. "But really, Hadrian?" She looked, deeply into his eyes. "Is she really worth breaking up with me over?" She shifted forward, her naked body pushing against Hadrian's, biting her lip, eyes fixed in a pleading expression. "For something which may never happen?"

"I...well" stammered Hadrian. "Its just..."

"Well?" Julia cocked her head, curiously. "What? What is it, darling? I mean, you don't think I'm an awful person, do you?"

Hadrian shook his head, vigorously. "Of course not!"

"So?" Julia stood up, pulling away from Hadrian. "I honestly don't see what the problem is, anyway. There's not that many citizens who'll agree with you, Hadrian."

As she leaned forward to kiss Hadrian, he struggled to say something, to put his feelings into words. That you had to try, no matter how hopeless the cause. That by being with her he was colluding in a system he hated. That it didn't matter how well Julia treated Marlia, at the end of the day the maid was still merely property, treated as less than human because of nothing more than an accident of birth. That Julia might be nice, but she was also the embodiment of -

And then they were kissing, and Julia's hand was between his legs, and he no longer saw what the problem was either.

********************************************************************************************

Marlia knelt by Julia's feet, frowning in concentration. Her domina was chatting enthusisastically, although in the opinion of Marlia without much to actually say, on the phone. Half of it seemed to concern Hadrian. The maid wondered if Julia's friend was as quietly bored of hearing the man's qualities described as she was.

She dipped the brush into the red paint, and then gently ran it across the nail of Julia's middle toe, keeping her hand steady so as to avoid getting the liquid on bare skin. The last time that had happened, Julia had irritably kicked her in the face. Not hard enough to do any lasting damage, but it had still hurt for an hour or so. Her task was made harder by the fact that Julia's feet were constantly moving slightly, jerking as Julia chuckled as what was being said.

 _Please domina, stay still_ said Marlia, in the privacy of her own skull.

She finished the middle toe and moved onto the smaller one. She wasn't too keen on this particular task. It wasn't so much that it involved kneeling before Julia, staring at her feet like a trembling supplicant - Marlia had done that plenty of times before and felt no shame in it. Nor was it doing a task Julia could just have easily have done for herself - again, she was wholly used to the idea that she was considered to be nothing more than a labour saving device. It was simply that it was tedious, dull, and came with the risk of messing up Julia's appearance - a risk which carried near it the near certainty of, at least, a painful slap. 

"All right then Ants - see ya!" said Julia happily, and put the phone down, her toes twitching again. Marlia held up the brush until the movement subsided.

"Romulus above Marls, haven't you finished yet?" snorted Julia. "How long does it take?"

Biting back feel free to find out for yourself, domina she just replied "I'm nearly finished, domina."

"You're about as much use as a chocolate frying pan" muttered Julia. Marlia ignored the implied rebuke. Right now, Julia was cheerful enough, and was only mildly chiding her out of habit. "Or, I don't know."

"A burnt-out light bulb, domina?"

Julia laughed, and gently swung her other foot against Marlia's hair. "Cheeky slave. That's pretty good, actually."

Marlia smiled, and started on the smallest toe, swiftly covering the nail with paint.

"I daresay you were eavesdropping anyway?"

Marlia looked up, anxiously, to see Julia smirking.

"Don't bother lying, Marls. You could hardly not, right?"

"I heard a bit, domina" said Marlia, carefully. There was no point in lying, and besides it wasn't as if Julia was particularly concerned about the maid knowing her secrets. She was, after all, only a tool that talked.

"You know about Hadrian then. He's an abolitionist, y'know?" She looked at Marlia with a faint, almost predatory smile.

Marlia swallowed, and did her level best to appear utterly unconcerned, as if the knowledge was both new to her and utterly uninteresting. 

"Is he, domina?" she asked, trying to sound uncaring. She wasn't quite sure what the etiquette was for slaves talking about abolitionists, but she sensed she wasn't so much skating on thin ice as stamping across it whilst wearing iron boots.

Julia grinned, enjoying herself, and raised her eyebrows. Marlia realised with a shiver that her owner was finding her reactions mildly amusing. She guessed that her squirming might seem quite funny, if you didn't know it resulted from Marlia knowing that one wrong word could end very badly for her. 

She dipped her eyes to the floor, reflecting that whilst Julia might not be sadistically cruel, she did sometimes amuse herself by demonstrating just how unequal the two of them were.

"You know damn well he is, Marls" purred Julia, putting Marlia in mind of a cat playing with mice. Still, at least it was 'Marls'. She was only ever called that if she was still looked upon favourably.

"He seems very devoted to you, domina". She scanned that sentence, seeing if there was anything there that Julia could twist to object to

"Oh, he is. Weird politics aside, of course."

Marlia nodded, and finished painting Julia's final toe, putting the brush back into the bottle.

"Well, domina" she said, practically "politics is hardly something girls of my station should concern themselves with." She stood up, feeling aches and pains in her back. "Do you like your nails, domina?"

Julia sniffed, obviously divining Marlia's attempt to change the subject. She looked at her feet, and nodded; either tiring of tormenting the maid or perhaps even reflecting that she'd maybe pushed Marlia around a bit too much. Personally, Marlia felt that last possibility somewhat unlikely, but there was always hope.

"Well, they're okay. I guess. Still, it isn't my feet Hadrian is interested in, Marls."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julia isn't that skilled at arguing, has no interest in politics, and is not one of life's natural deep thinkers. But she's sharp, and was brought up in the household of a Senator - so she at least knows the basis of most of the pro-slavery arguments. And, of course, she had the advantage of being a very distracting opponent when not wearing any clothes.
> 
> The Commonwealth of Vanasia formally abolished slavery shortly after the Vanasian War of Liberation. However conditions in their industrial slums can be as wretched and miserable as anywhere else in the world; with workers often heavily indebted to their employers, separated from their families and earning barely enough to survive.

**Author's Note:**

> The Temple of Sol Invictus is a major religion in the People's Republic, and arguably one of the most influential - the Hierophant Primus is widely regarded as one of the most senior religious figures in the world. The Temple itself is extremely popular within the Militum and the upper echelons of Roman society, and the widespread yet secretive Cult of Mithras is closely aligned to the Temple. Romulus, Mithras, and other figures from both history and legend are considered avatars or messengers from God; the sun itself is regarded as God's true form. The temple emphasises, self-denial, discipline and a militaristic outlook on life. 
> 
> Several excommunicated sub-factions of the Temple exist, including the Temple of the Mother Triumphant, which, to the horror of most worshippers, holds that God can have both male and female avatars.


End file.
